


A Rustling of Leaves

by SweetSorcery



Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies), Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Archery, Crush, Cuddling and Snuggling, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, M/M, Male Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-19
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 21:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smitten hobbit... gentle elf... archery by moonlight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rustling of Leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All canon referred to within belongs to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and the keepers of the LOTR movie rights. All fannish additions were created for non-profit, non-infringement entertainment.
> 
> Archiving: Nowhere except here, and not in translated form either.
> 
> Author's Notes: This was written a few years ago now. It's just a bit of fluff, really, but this fandom can use some of that among all the angst. :)  
> Please note that as far as I stick to canon at all, my stories are movie-based, and book-discrepancies are bound to happen a lot.

'He's so very different,' Frodo thought. 'So different from all of us.' His friends and fellow Hobbits were as familiar to Frodo as his Uncle Bilbo and his home in Hobbiton. He had known Gandalf since he had been a child, and trusted and adored him; Frodo smiled when he glanced at the wise old wizard sitting at the edge of their camp, sparkling blue eyes keeping watch, even in the dark. And Aragorn... dear, protective Aragorn, without whose strength and courage he could scarcely imagine tackling this task.

As for those he had only met days ago in Rivendell... Two of them were sleeping, huddled under cloaks. Gimli, even though Frodo had never met a dwarf before, appeared to him to be straightforward and never hesitated to speak his mind. Boromir was difficult to judge; Frodo was on his guard around him, but he believed there was a gentle side to the man, and that he had a kind heart.

And then there was Legolas. The Elf. The graceful one. The beautiful one. The one who surely belonged to another world, for he seemed to glide above the earth when he walked and to shine with an inner glow which did not allow dirt, misery and tragedy to touch him. Frodo, as all the hobbits were, was enchanted by the Elves, but by Legolas more than any other. He bit his lower lip, hoping the pain might still his rapidly beating heart. But the action only succeeded in making him whimper softly, and thus attract the attention of the very being he would have wished to observe unnoticed.

Legolas' dark eyes met Frodo's across a fire they had started to warm themselves before going to sleep. The Hobbit felt as though his heart might simply burst from his chest, for the Elf's gaze was soft and kind, and when after a few moments, Frodo was still not able to look away, it was joined by a smile. "Does your wound still hurt, Frodo?" Legolas enquired with gentle concern.

Frodo shook his head, too rapidly. "No! Oh no, not at all."

The smallest frown formed between Legolas' brows. "You are not simply being brave?"

Frodo laughed softly at that, but the laughter was shaky, for his nerves were so on edge. "Brave? Me?"

Legolas' frown deepened. "You are the bravest of us all, Frodo."

The Hobbit blushed becomingly. "If I could fight with a sword like Aragorn, or with an ax like Gimli, or..." He gazed at Legolas from beneath his long lashes. "With bow and arrow, like you."

"Those are simply skills, Frodo," Legolas said with a slight smile. "Anyone can learn them. Not everyone is born with your courage. Most would never undertake the responsibility that rests on your shoulders now."

Frodo returned the smile, warmed by Legolas' words. He knew the Elf meant them, for he could see the sincerity in Legolas' soft grey eyes, even in the faint fire light. He wondered whether he might not dare ask for something more. "Legolas?"

"Yes, Frodo?" Legolas shifted closer, his movements barely a sound in the stillness of the night, and Frodo blushed more furiously still, glad of the dark enveloping them. 

"Would you teach me?" he stammered, wiping his suddenly damp hands against the rough fabric of his pants. Legolas looked amused, and Frodo realised he had only half finished his question. "I mean... to use a bow and arrow?"

Legolas did not hesitate for a moment. "Of course, Frodo. Except--" He looked thoughtful.

"Yes?" Frodo asked, too anxiously.

Legolas sighed. "I am not certain that you could use my bow and arrow. They may be too big and cumbersome."

"Oh." Frodo lowered his head, seeing how silly the idea had been. Of course, Legolas was tall and strong, while he himself was a mere Hobbit. He could never use an Elven bow. 

"I will make you a bow and carve you some arrows," Legolas offered unexpectedly, sounding pleased with his idea.

When Frodo stared at him in surprise, the Elf explained. "This night, while we rest. I do not need sleep. And it will not take me long."

"But--" Frodo did not wish to impose. He reached out to Legolas as if to physically stop him from going through so much trouble, but the Elf merely clasped the small hand thrust at him, and squeezed it for a moment, before rising with quick grace and turning away to collect some branches in the nearby forest.

Frodo stared after him. Then, once Legolas was out of sight, he stared down at the hand Legolas had just held and pressed it to his chest with his eyes closed. For once, he barely felt the outline of the ring.

* * *

The very next evening, after everyone had settled in for the night with Aragorn and Gimli on watch at the outer edges of their dwelling, Legolas approached Frodo. The Hobbit was curled up under his blanket beneath a cliff overhang - resting, not sleeping. "Frodo?" he said, touching his hand lightly to the Hobbit's shoulder.

Frodo turned and smiled up at Legolas. He was presented with a beautifully carved, tiny bow, and when the Elf knelt beside him, Frodo saw he also set down a small quiver of arrows of a matching size. He gasped.

"I think these will work," Legolas said. "And now I can teach you."

Frodo scrambled to his feet, which put him more or less at eye level with the Elf. He instinctively began to reach out, but something stopped him from flinging himself into Legolas' arms in gratitude. He did not know if the cool and empyreal Elf would appreciate such an open, Hobbit-like show of affection. And something else made him hesitate, too. Frodo thought that perhaps, he would be showing more affection than he should. Finally, it occurred to him that he was simply standing there staring and being quite rude, and quickly said, "Thank you!"

Legolas smiled, and rose to his feet. "Shall we go?"

Frodo nodded, wrapped himself in his cloak, and quickly followed the lightfooted Elf to a nearby clearing.

"The waxing moon should give us plenty of light," Legolas explained as he continued to the center of the grass and leaf covered area.

Frodo stopped dead, thinking he must have entered a wonderland. The place was like something from one of his uncle's tales of old. The tall, dark trees of the surrounding forests were threatening and sheltering them at once as they rustled in the steady breeze. Beams of silver light sliced through the treetops and lit up the clearing. The ground beneath Frodo's feet felt like a rough-textured blanket, fresh and crisply starched. The night-time moisture glistening upon it drew scents at once sweet and spicy from the sea of green, quite like the small linen pocket of herbs he used to keep under his pillow back home.

Just as a hint of homesickness began to creep over Frodo, he was distracted by the most enchanting sight of all. For in the center of all this natural beauty stood something more beautiful still - a creature one might expect to see in a fairy tale: an Elven prince with hair like threads of pure gold, dressed to blend in with the forest and trees, but made so beautifully as to be expected seated on the throne of a shimmering castle. And this creature was smiling at him.

"Ready, Frodo?" Legolas called out, amused by the distracted Hobbit.

"Sorry!" Frodo rushed forward, terribly embarrassed to have been caught staring, again. In his haste, his foot was caught by a loose branch, and he yelped as he flew, clumsily, into Legolas' arms. For a moment, Frodo was surrounded by the cool, gentle arms of this fairy creature, before being once more carefully placed upon the ground.

"Careful, Frodo." Legolas went down on one knee to inspect Frodo's foot. "Did you hurt yourself?" he asked, prodding it gently.

"No." Frodo shook his head. "Hobbit feet are quite sturdy." He managed a smile, in spite of his nervousness, and found it returned by the Elf. From this close, Legolas was more beautiful still, Frodo thought. His skin was so white and smooth...

Suddenly, Legolas turned Frodo around and away from himself as easily as if he was a doll. At first, Frodo was confused, but then he understood. Legolas pointed towards a particularly light-coloured tree at the clearing's edge, a little separate from the surrounding ones. There was a circular slice of wood tied to it with thin ropes - more of Legolas' handiwork, no doubt. "Do you see the target on that birch over there, Frodo? It is well lit by the moon."

Frodo nodded, taking the offered bow and arrow from the Elf's hand. Somewhat clumsily, he attempted to imitate the graceful movements he had seen Legolas perform when aiming, but the arrow kept sliding from between his fingers, and he seemed unable to keep the bow steady. When the Hobbit sighed in frustration, Legolas reached around him from behind, and covered both of Frodo's hands with his own, larger ones. Frodo's breath caught when Legolas helped him keep his aim straight and still, guilty to be concentrating far more deeply on the sensation of being surrounded by the Elf's slender arms than on the actual tuition.

"Now," Legolas instructed, and Frodo let go of the arrow and watched it slice through the air and into the very center of the target. "That was excellent!" Legolas exclaimed, and Frodo smiled to himself.

"You did all the work," he murmured.

"I only helped you keep your aim steady." Legolas reached to the small quiver he had set down on the ground, and passed Frodo another arrow. "Try it on your own this time."

Frodo bit his lips, glancing back over his shoulder at Legolas. "I hope I will not hit a deer or a squirrel by mistake."

Legolas shook his head. "There are none in this area of the woods. Do not worry, Frodo. It is quite safe."

Frodo nodded. Then he took aim, annoyed by the trembling of his arms as he held the bowstring taut, and fired. With a great flurry, a cloud of leaves flew up in the air, and then fluttered to the ground with a soft rustle. "That was very bad," Frodo stated.

Legolas laughed softly. 

Turning back, Frodo smiled. "Unless you meant for me to aim at the treetop?"

"Of course," Legolas said, dead serious. "Sorry, had I not made that clear?"

They laughed out loud. 

"I suspect we have woken the others now."

Legolas shook his head. "I told Aragorn where we were going. He will stop the others from rushing at us at the slightest sound, with swords and knives drawn."

Frodo nodded, suddenly feeling bold. "Could you help me again? Like you did before?"

Legolas nodded without hesitation. "Of course. Here, try to lean back against me a little. That way, you can concentrate on your aim without having to worry about your balance."

Frodo nodded and allowed Legolas to take him by the shoulders and draw him backwards. Then he suddenly found himself leaning against the Elf's thigh, and a moment later, Legolas had lifted him effortlessly and placed him to sit across it. Frodo giggled, and Legolas pinched him playfully in the arm before enclosing him once more in his embrace and guiding his hands to the right positions on the bow and a new arrow from the quiver.

"Now remember, Frodo, you must keep your eyes as close to the arrow as you can, so your aim is true. Your right hand should touch your cheek so you are steady and have a good sense of your direction." He then proceeded to lift the bow and hold Frodo's hand over the arrow, at just the point where he had indicated.

Of course, with Legolas' hand being over Frodo's own, his fingertips were grazing Frodo's cheek ever so lightly, and Frodo dared not let go off the arrow, for he had closed his eyes in delight.

"Frodo?" Legolas asked with concern when he felt the small body in his arms tremble.

"I'm sorry, Legolas." Frodo swallowed, and let his head lie back against Legolas' shoulder, which was but a few inches away. He sighed softly, hoping to enjoy the moment a little longer before Legolas would push him away. He simply needed the comfort, the rest and peaceful presence of the Elf, the beauty in all the dark through which they were traveling. Frodo knew that was why he sought Legolas' company. He was like a lantern in the night, a warm fire in the cold.

And the Elf did not push him away. Instead, he turned his head until his cheek rested against Frodo's, and they remained like that for some beautiful moments, until Legolas lowered their hands and placed the bow and arrow on the ground beside them. Frodo wanted to speak, but he feared the beautiful illusion would shatter like fine glass. When Legolas turned him slightly, the contact was briefly broken, but a tiny kiss was placed on Frodo's cheek, and then he felt the Elf's cool breath against his lips.

Parting his own, Frodo thought, but did not dare to say out loud, 'Kiss me... Oh please, kiss me.'

Narrow palms closed around Frodo's face with a touch deliberately gentle to match his fragile Hobbit skin, and he caught a mere glimpse of Legolas' dreamlike eyes before he felt the curved lips he had been admiring touch his own - tender as a breath, but as warm as an embrace. He would have lost his balance for certain had he not been sitting on Legolas' thigh. So he leaned into the Elf, hardly daring to return the kiss, but allowing it enthusiastically. It felt so perfect. He had never felt a touch like that in his entire life. Unable to reach around Legolas in his awkward position and with his short arms, Frodo stroked gently over the Elf's hands and up his forearms, whimpering softly into his mouth.

When a tongue lightly touched his own, he began to tremble, at once surprised and shocked and, most of all, thrilled. So he parted his lips further, and Legolas explored him more deeply, playing with his tongue and his teeth, while his fingers moved back into Frodo's hair and combed through the lush locks tenderly. Moaning more loudly now, Frodo shifted nearer, pressing himself as close to Legolas as he could manage. The kiss ended, and Frodo was about to worry, when he felt himself picked up as though he were a feather, and laid gently on the ground. 

Legolas lay down alongside him, and Frodo saw the slight smile playing on the lips that had kissed him a moment ago. On an impulse, he reached up and traced his forefinger along the Elf's moist bottom lip, then the top one, and still Legolas smiled.

"Frodo." His voice was as soft as a caress, and his long golden tresses caressed Frodo's shoulders. "Sweet, brave Frodo."

Frodo smiled up at Legolas, ignorant of the sparkle in his own eyes. He wanted to say something. He considered thanking Legolas, or asking him if he truly did not mind kissing him, but it all seemed so silly. After all, Legolas had chosen to kiss him, had he not? It was unlikely, as far as Frodo could imagine, that an Elf would do anything he did not wish to do.

"What worries you?" Legolas asked.

Frodo swallowed. "Why did you kiss me?"

Legolas smiled. "Did you not wish me to?"

"No! I mean, yes, I did!" Frodo declared hastily. "More than anything." He lowered his eyes, tried to avert his face, but Legolas' fingers on his chin stopped him. "I merely wonder why you would wish to kiss a silly Hobbit with a crush."

Legolas laughed softly. "Perhaps I am a silly Elf with a crush?"

Frodo's eyes went big and round. "On me?"

"Why does that surprise you so?" Legolas asked, long fingers winding around Frodo's curls and lifting them away from the broad forehead. "Frodo, you are so lovely," he said. "And you have a greater heart and a wiser soul than anyone I know."

Frodo did not know what to say. Certainly, Legolas was jesting. But he gazed once more up into the warm eyes and saw nothing but affection there. "Would you kiss me again?" he pleaded softly.

Legolas smiled and leaned over him, but his lips merely hovered above Frodo's mouth, then moved up to place a kiss on the frowning forehead, then on the tip of his small nose, and only then another on his lips.

Frodo sighed into the kiss and raised his arms to reach around the Elf's neck. He was drawn up and into Legolas' arms and they rolled on their sides, facing each other. Tiny branches and loose oak leaves crackled beneath them like a smoldering fire.

One of the Elf's hands cupped the back of Frodo's head while the other stroked his shoulder, his back, and then moved down to squeeze his bottom lightly.

Frodo shuddered against him, pressing close, and their kiss grew deeper and more intense. The Hobbit clutched at Legolas' shoulders when he felt a hand steal beneath his shirt, and the mithril, to stroke his bare back, and they continued to roll sideways, Legolas taking great care not to cover Frodo too heavily when he was above him, but holding the small body as close as he dared.

Frodo moaned softly at the gentle touch on his bare skin, but a moment later, he cried out.

Legolas drew back swiftly. "Frodo?" Frodo grimaced and rolled forward a little more into Legolas' arms, then reached behind himself. He raised his hand and showed Legolas one of the small arrows. "Oh no!" Legolas was quite distressed. Too much so to realize that with the disappearance of the momentary pain, Frodo's full lips curved into a wicked little smile. "Are you hurt? Are you bleeding? Let me see." Legolas' hands ghosted all over Frodo's body.

Frodo obligingly allowed Legolas to roll him onto his stomach, then he crossed his arms and laid his head down upon them with a contented sigh. "Please," he simply said.

Legolas, bent on checking the fragile Hobbit body for injuries, reached beneath Frodo's coat and pulled the linen pants and briefs down past Frodo's hips. He examined the small red mark from the arrowtip's edge with careful fingers, but there was no blood nor, apparently, pain, for Frodo's soft cooing sounded very unlike the sounds he might have made were he in distress. Now Legolas understood. "Perhaps I should kiss it better," he suggested, a smile of relief and teasing - not a domain of Hobbits alone - tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Frodo mumbled something that sounded like, "Perhaps, yes."

Legolas bent his head, amused at the sharp intake of breath when his long hair glided over Frodo's bare buttocks. He pressed a light kiss to the nearly invisible injury and it vanished entirely.

"Mmmm..." Frodo murmured.

Legolas took that to mean that he should make sure there were no other wounds. He checked thoroughly, not finding a single mark on the smooth white skin, but he kissed and petted it just to be sure. He fought hard to keep his caresses somewhat innocent, for he did not wish to scare Frodo on this their first encounter. He resisted the temptation to tease the warm space between Frodo's legs and to find his way into the slender little body. Not this time...

Frodo sighed and murmured unintelligibly, a tiny protest issuing from his lips when his pants were drawn back up over his hips and he was being turned over once more.

"All better," Legolas said huskily.

"Yes," Frodo confirmed in a whisper. Then he stretched up his short arms and flung them around Legolas' neck, drawing the Elf close and kissing him eagerly.

Legolas felt undone. All the world was falling away around him until there was nothing but Frodo, holding onto him as if he needed him alone. There would have to be something... just a little something tonight. "You make me thirst for you, Frodo," Legolas sighed, and while they kissed, he fumbled between them, finding a way inside Frodo's pants without needing to half-undress him again.

Frodo stilled for a moment, then gasped and trembled from Legolas' at once cool and searing grip. The Elf's hand pleasured him slowly but expertly... almost too much so, for he felt he came close to fainting a number of times. The Elf took infinite care with the small treasure in his hand, but he did not allow Frodo his release too soon either. He brought him to the brink many times, only to slow his strokes again until the Hobbit's hitched breathing resumed.

Frodo gasped. "I've never known such a touch."

"Then I delight in giving it all the more," Legolas whispered close to Frodo's ear and stroked a little faster. While he nipped at the earlobe, his thumb began spreading slickness where his fingers moved and squeezed.

Frodo's breathing stopped for a moment, his eyes widened into seas of brilliant blue, and he came with a heavy, desperate sigh.

Legolas licked his lips, then kissed the Hobbit long and deeply, until they were equally breathless.

"Oh..." Frodo whispered, when he realised how the dampness was spreading between his legs. He raised his head to see how he could repair the damage, but Legolas smiled and kissed his cheek, then shook his head.

"Let me," he offered, and moved down to clean the mess he had made the only way he could think of and wanted to. He would have gladly caught Frodo's taste in his mouth in the first place, had he not been so intent on seeing the rapture in the beautiful eyes.

Letting his head fall back against the soft ground, Frodo closed his eyes, the caresses to his terribly sensitive flesh a sweet torture he wished to enjoy as best he could. "Legolas," he sighed finally, while the Elf tucked his clothing back into place and hugged him close. "Will you ever let me..." Frodo swallowed, blushing in the dark.

The Elf smiled. "If you wish it, Frodo. But not tonight. I do not need rest, sweeting, but you do." He kissed the top of Frodo's head. "We have much time yet." Silently, he prayed that his words were true, and that there would be many more nights where Frodo would cling to him as contentedly and soothed as he did then. But who could know in such times...

  


The End


End file.
